


'Tis the (First) Season

by askalfendilaytonmod



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room, Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Christmas Shopping, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Christmas, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askalfendilaytonmod/pseuds/askalfendilaytonmod
Summary: As it turns out, Placid Prof has never had a real Christmas, and Lucy Baker insists on breaking that tradition.Very minor references to alcohol. Katrielle Layton does appear, but there are no spoilers for LMJ.





	'Tis the (First) Season

**Author's Note:**

> This was my LBMR Secret Santa gift for tumblr user multi-the-world-wanderer. They asked for Alfendi and Lucifendi, and I’ve been very inspired by my first British Christmas this year. You English people really know how to get festive!
> 
> I’ve also explored the idea of Alfendi’s personalities being more separated than I usually write them. In this fic, they do not share many memories, and are incapable of viewing everything the other does while in control.

Lucy Baker went hard at everything she did, and that included Christmas.

Growing up in Yorkshire meant being surrounded by the festive season from the second Halloween ended. Attending the local Christmas markets was customary, and she adored witnessing the decorations brighten the streets as the day drew nearer. It was second nature for her to sing the carols as they came onto the radio whilst wearing an ugly sweater: the perks of working from an office.

When she placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of Alfendi instead of his usual tea, she received a raised eyebrow in response.

“’Tis the season, Prof.”

Placid hummed, taking one sip, then another as he studied a case file. “Not bad,” he commented.

She could feel how big her smile was. “I knew you had it in you to be festive! I migh’ decorate the office, while I have you in such a good mood.”

Muttering something in return, he gave her a non-committed shrug which she took as acceptance. As she tidied her desk she began to imagine it, considering which of her ornaments would suit the Mystery Room best.

“I could even bring in some egg nog,” she added after listing off the possibilities. “My Ma has a great recipe for it that I’m going to try for myself.”

“Egg nog?” His tone was critical.

“I’ll do my best to make it right, no need t’fret. And I won’t add any alcohol, since we’d be at work.”

As she strode across the room to put a file away, she caught sight of his face, and realised that it was not disapproval he’d expressed, but confusion.

Lucy opened her mouth, ready to poke fun at the  _infamous, educated Alfendi Layton for not knowing what egg nog was_ , but just managed to stop herself in time. Sliding the file into its allocated drawer, a thought nagged at her.

“Or,” she began, “we could have mulled wine, if you want a real drink. Outside work, o’ course.” His silence further confirmed her suspicions, but she gave him a final test. “The ice cubes might make it a bit cold for this weather, though.”

“Oh, yes, I agree, far too cold,” he replied. “I’ve never liked the drink anyway.”

 _Got you, Prof_.

Mulled wine was served hot: nobody would ever consider putting  _icecubes_  in it. Peeking over at him from the filing cabinet, he was focused on his work, but she could see the faint blush in his cheeks.

She watched him a moment longer before returning to her own task, her mind whirring.

–

“Has your brother ever celebrated Christmas?”

The question was addressed to an irate Potty Prof, who had just nailed the coffin shut for a suspect. Rather than revelling in the excitement of it all, he was still hung up on a few colourful insults he’d received. Having worked with Alfendi for close to six months, Lucy knew that there was no chance Placid would overhear the conversation, given Potty’s current emotional state.

“What nonsense are you spouting? Brother?”

“You know who I mean.”

“We’re  _not_  brothers.”

“Oh, shush an’ answer the question.”

Pacing the room in an effort to calm himself down, Potty scoffed and finally looked up at her. “I assume he’s celebrated it, but I don’t remember the past four years well enough to tell you for certain. I wasn’t exactly  _active._ ”

“No memories stand out? Ice skating, shopping, roast dinners, presen-”

“None of that drivel.”

Huffing, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re a right Grinch, you know.”

Finally, he smiled, or smirked at least. “Thank you very much.”

Mulling over his answer, she gathered the paperwork to finalise the arrest. A minute later, his pacing stopped.

“Perhaps I do remember something.”

“Hm?”

Thoughtful, he placed a hand on his chin. “It’s faint, but… yes, the dates would match up. When he awoke after our coma four years ago, and I was fighting to regain some control, the hospital room had tinsel in it.”

It was as if she’d been submerged in icy water. “Placid Prof spent his first Christmas in hospital?”

“He wasn’t discharged until mid-January, so yes, he must have.”

“That’s… Lord, that’s awful. Maybe you don’t like Christmas much, but he might’ve never had the chance to.”

Potty considered her words, face unreadable, before his pacing resumed.

–

“He hasn’t come to Christmas dinner in the past few years,” Katrielle said, her voice slightly grainy over the phone. “He always says he has to work, but I heard from Inspector Hastings that he volunteers to do it. I wasn’t too surprised; he’s never been fond of big, mushy family gatherings. Dad and I have missed him, though.”

It was exactly what Lucy had expected. “But this started after he were shot, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did.” Katrielle paused a second. “And Dad and I do think that the incident has something to do with it. But we don’t want to push him into coming, especially since we’ve all grown closer after we helped him through his recovery. If he doesn’t want to attend one family gathering, we won’t hold it against him.”

Lucy understood, but it was sad to hear all the same. “Thank you, Katrielle.”

The two exchanged brief pleasantries before the call ended. Lucy placed the phone down, thinking hard.

He wasn’t extraverted, far from it, but Placid Prof was good natured enough. If he was given a real chance to enjoy Christmas traditions, without connecting it to his time in hospital, she believed with all her soul that he’d enjoy himself.

Convincing him to try was whole different matter altogether. Getting him to leave the comfort of his office to brave the busy shops and crowded Christmas markets would do him no good, of that she was certain. He’d have to have the type of Christmas which would suit him.

Luckily, he had an expert at his disposal.

–

As soon as one o’clock came the next day, Lucy tossed a scarf to a surprised Alfendi. “Come on, Prof, time to go.”

“Huh?”

It was impossible to contain her smile. “Our shift’s over.”

Glancing at the clock, his expression grew more confused. “Lucy, are you feeling alright? We have four hours left.”

“Not today we don’t. Chop chop, Prof, we’re on a tight schedule!”

She’d cleared it with the Commissioner to go early. She had the holiday leave to spare, and Lord knows that Alfendi did too, with his workaholic tendencies. In the meantime, Florence had agreed to take on any cases that might come their way (“ _Pick me up a warm beanie from the – ACHOO! – market, and I’d be happy to help.”_ ).

Wary, but by this stage knowing better than to argue with her, he wound the scarf around his neck. “Just what have you got planned?”

“Ehee, but that would ruin it. Come on now, I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

It was rarely a white Christmas in London, but a little snow from the night had settled on the ground. She was prepared for the cold weather, layered up with a thick coat, beanie and gloves, but her companion was less so. They’d been outside for two minutes before she noticed him shivering, and she was grateful that she’d remembered to bring him the scarf at least.

“Sorry Prof. I promise you’ll warm up soon.”

Muttering something, he pulled his coat closer around him, trudging along.

As expected, it took thirty minutes to arrive to their destination.  _Perfect_ , she thought.  _That gives us about two hours._

The moment the lights came into view, Alfendi stopped. “Lucy, what is…?”

“The Christmas Market by the Thames,” she replied. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

After a second, he took a couple steps forward. “It’s so… bright.”

It was an apt description: lights of all sorts were a necessity for any market worth its salt. “That’s just the outside. Wait ‘til you actually walk through.”

It was as though a child had taken over his body a moment, stars settling in his eyes. In an instant, they disappeared. “Ah… I imagine it’ll be crowded.”

“Why do you think I got us out of work early?” she replied, unable to help the smugness in her voice. “It’s just after the lunch rush, and it won’t get busy again until kids are finished with school for the day and the adults are done with work. We’ve got time to enjoy it while it’s quiet.”

He stared at her, softness falling onto his face. “Lucy… you organised this for me?”

“I needed to make sure you enjoyed your first real Christmas, Prof. That wouldn’t happen if you were in a crowd.” Checking her watch, she took his sleeve and tugged him towards the stalls. “But we can’t waste any time! There’s so much for you to see!”

While he didn’t seem opposed to the idea, she expected that she’d have to nudge him forward most of the time. However, it didn’t take long for him to get into the swing of things. In a matter of minutes, he’d stopped at a stall which sold little trinkets, quickly purchasing one as a gift for Katrielle. Not long after, they came across a stall which solved logic games, the perfect gift for his father.

An hour in, she spotted what she’d been looking for. “Come on, Prof. It’s time for you to try some mulled wine.”

He shook his head. “It’s far too cold for that, Lucy.”

Giggling, she pointed to a passer-by who was holding a mug, steam rising from the rim. “Now if you’d  _actually_ had mulled wine before, you’d know that it’s served hot.” Spotting him beginning to blush, to save him from the embarrassment she quickly paid for two drinks, handing him the mug. “Cheers.”

“Ch-Cheers,” he echoed, clinking his mug with hers before sipping it, a little hesitant. She watched as he considered the taste, trying it again. “That is… something.”

“It takes some getting used to, I s’pose.”

“No, I like it. Who would have ever thought to heat up wine?”

–

The time flew by faster than she thought possible, and unsurprisingly for the English winter, the sky darkened early. As the market grew busier, she and Alfendi bought dinner from a food truck and retreated to a quieter part of the Thames with no stalls.

Sitting by the river, a comfortable silence fell upon them as they ate, but once she’d finished she realised that Alfendi was staring at her, thoughtful.

“What?”

“I’m grateful that you did this for me, Lucy. I suppose it was obvious that I haven’t celebrated Christmas in the past.”

She waited, inviting him to continue.

“The memories from when I – or  _he_ – was younger are faint, and I feel disconnected from them. The first real Christmas I remember was when I woke up from my coma, eleven days before it. Katrielle and Dad tried to make the day special for me, but it was a painful one. My body started to reject some of my medications, so I couldn’t eat anything, let alone have a Christmas feast. Not to mention that it was just so  _cold_ , and I was even skinnier than I am now.” Pausing, a small sigh passed through his lips. “Unfortunately, this time of year carries bad memories with it, so I’ve never felt festive.”

“I’m really sorry, Prof. I can’t imagine not celebrating Christmas, it were always something I loved when I were younger. And now, o’ course.”

Silent, he stared out at the river. “Perhaps… perhaps I will celebrate it this year, though,” he murmured.

Her heart leapt. “Huh?”

“A lot has happened in the past few months. Uncovering the truth from four years ago has made me feel stronger, and ready to move on from it. Now that I’ve actually seen what Christmas is like, I think I’d like to partake.” He paused. “It’s really like this every year?”

She grinned again. “Every year! This isn’t the only market in London, either, there are so many others we could go to. If you liked, o’ course.”

A few jumbled words left his mouth, until they eventually formed a coherent sentence. “I would like. Very much.”

“How about this weekend? If we get there early, we’ll avoid the rush.”

“Y-Yes, that sounds wise.”

He stopped speaking again, though it looked like he had a lot more to say, his mouth opening and closing.

Waiting, she eventually had to break the silence, which had grown stifling. “Are you alr-”

“What are you doing on Christmas day?” he blurted out.

Blinking, she examined his flustered face. “Ma and Pa are overseas this year, so nawt.” The reminder put a dampener on her mood; it was the first Christmas she’d spend without her family, given she was an only child. “I guess that’s why I’m so eager to do everything else I can ‘round London.”

“Would you like to come to the Layton family dinner?”

She was the one who was surprised now. “Eh?”

“I-I mean, I should go, after avoiding it so long. I’ve bought them presents and everything. You’d be w-welcome, of course, Katrielle would be thrilled. My father would like to meet you, too.”

Was it just her, or was he rambling?

Heart fluttering a little – now that was something new – she stared back at him, before realising she hadn’t answered. “I’d love to! I weren’t looking forward t’spending the day alone.”

“Then you won’t, Lucy Baker.”

The pair smiled at one another – she beaming, he a little sheepish – before they looked up to find the gentlest of snowflakes falling from the sky. Watching as he reached out to touch one, Lucy again saw the stars in his eyes.

 _Happy first Christmas, Placid Prof_.


End file.
